Breaking Boys
by remmie
Summary: Who say's it's not possible to break Harry Potter? Slash. HD. Hints of RS. One-shot.


**Title: **Breaking Boys

**Author: **remmie

**Disclaimer: **not mine

**Warning: **the following is slash. There's a slight hint of **Lupin/Snape **but they are not main characters.

It had started out innocent. It wasn't my fault he kept looking at me. Ever since his dear godfather kicked the bucket, he'd grown more _confident._

He didn't take anything from anyone, and had out matured his friends who seemed pitifully ignorant.

He'd become a slytherin.

On the outside he still wore red and gold, but without the look of pride. He looked at our robes with envy.

I don't blame him.

He's smarter than Granger and our marks our fairly tied. His rebelling lost him any chance he may have had at being head boy.

Sixth year had been wonderful. He supplied us with entertainment. And later, he gave me company.

Yes, last year had been fun. Sitting up in the astronomy tower, showing him exactly how to breathe the smoke in...he always thought it was funny, me smoking muggle cigarettes.

I remember when we were caught. We'd been sent to see Prof. Mcgonagall, she had yelled at us for so long, and he smirked. He told her he didn't care what she thought his parents would say.

I was quite proud of him. She looked at me, her eyes accusing me of twisting him into something the headmaster had tried to prevent.

I won't deny what I did.

But he had so much potential.

I made his eyes brighter...I showed him things he never would have dared to see.

I got him into trouble all the time, and he loved it. He loved looking down at them, a haughty look on his face.

I remember the first time he heard the werewolf's yells directed at him. He was hurt, I knew he was. But he was good and hid it.

He hated disappointing me. I could see it in his eyes.

I saw it in the way he held his scrawny body around me. I made him cut his hair. It's short and spiky.

I got the idea from a picture of my dearly departed cousin.

I showed him muggle music. Introduced him to nightclubs.

He wears contacts now. It let's me see his eyes better.

His clothes are too tight, but I like it that way.

He's got a sneer to revile our potion's master and mine.

Speaking of masters....

He's coming towards me. He's smirking, so I know he's in a mood.

But potions is starting and we can't be late for that.

We disgust his old friends, but the werewolf no longer is. I've seen him sneaking around the dungeons.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out what's going on, especially when they sometimes arrive together.

Harry and him I mean.

Lions lost in a snake's den. It makes me shiver.

Snape knows what's going on too. He asked me not to push Potter off the edge; we might lose him and our chance to win the war.

I don't care really.

I read the ingredient list, but I see his cold green eyes staring lifelessly at me.

The red healing potion is starting to look like crimson blood, swirling pools of lust.

I suddenly need him.

But he's calmly mixing his potion, he knows even if he made the cauldron explode; he'd still pass.

The benefits of your guardian sneaking around to see your teachers are most evident.

I calm myself by remembering the first time I manipulated him.

My lips brushing his. Running my hands through his messy hair.

I remember not liking it.

I leave potions only to go directly to slytherin's dorms. Granger holds me up for at least twenty minutes. Arguing about the state he's in because of me. But I leave her angry and hurt. I know where to find him.

He's waiting for me, lying on the bed, shirtless and holding a cigarette limply between his fingers.

His eyes are slightly glazed over.

"Have you been drinking?" I ask him, liking the idea of him rebelling against me. I can clearly see the half-empty bottle beside him on the nightstand.

He just lies there. Exhaling smoke.

I was mildly disturbed by the fact that he was not answering me. He should have. He knows it makes me angry when he ignores me, brushed me off, like I'm one of _them._

I'm about to rip into him when he pats the spot beside him on the bed.

I strut over to him, shrugging my robe and shirt off as I go.

He's wearing black trousers and I realise I'm still in my school pants.

I sit on his hips; he pulls his knees up to support my back.

He's not looking at me, and I want his attention.

"Look at me."

I was surprised when he spoke. The green-eyed boy hardly spoke, even to me.

He seems lost in regret.

"What did you _do _to me? I used to have _friends..."_

The words sound foreign coming from his whitish lips.

He gives a rye smile before grabbing the tie that's still around my neck. He pulls me down and I'm captured by his lips.

I put my hands down on his chest and I can feel him shiver.

I think I like the new Harry. He's defying me now, and I'm excited by the possibilities.

His knees go down as I lay on top of him.

He leans upward toward my ear.

"I hate you."

I know he means it to.

But that's ok.

Who say's you can't break Harry Potter?

**The end**


End file.
